Marriage next week?
The words echoed in Hae-in's head like a sentence being read aloud in a courtroom. Too loud. Too final. Too unreal.
Her parents were shocked too, but not in the way she was. Their worry wasn't about her heart or her fear. It was about time. Calendars. Arrangements. Logistics.
"Why do they want it so early?" Mrs Jeon asked, brows knitting together.
Mr Jeon exhaled slowly. "They said they were really impressed by Hae-in. They don't want to lose her or this proposal. So they want the marriage to happen as soon as possible."
Hae-in looked at them then. Really looked. Her eyes burned, her throat tightened, and her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. Panic crept in quietly, wrapping around her chest. Fear followed, closing in like invisible walls. She didn't know what to say, where to begin, how to explain the storm rising inside her.
"But, appa…" she said, forcing her voice to steady. "This isn't right. We barely know each other's families, and suddenly, such a big decision. I'm…" Her words faltered. "I'm not—"
She didn't get to finish.
"What else is there to know?" her mother interrupted, firm and unyielding. "Didn't we already bond? They're a nice family. And they're right. We shouldn't delay it. Delays only create unnecessary reasons that break good bonds."
Mr. Jeon glanced at his wife and gave a quiet nod, his agreement unspoken but clear.
"Yes," he said slowly. "That's true." Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "But next week is still very early. There's hardly any time for preparations."
Hae-in looked at her parents, standing there like ghosts in her own life. Completely ignored. As if the ache tightening her chest, the fear flooding her veins, simply did not exist.
But she was invisible to them.
"Let's start preparing from tomorrow," Mrs Jeon said decisively. "Take leave from the office until the wedding is done. I'll handle the invitations and minor arrangements."
Mr Jeon thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I'll talk to my manager tomorrow."
He turned to Hae-in. "You too, Hae-ina. Inform your office and take leave until everything is finished. Help Omma with preparations. And call Yeobin. Tell her to come home early. She'll be helpful."
Mrs. Jeon nodded immediately, already pulling out her phone. She dialed without a second glance at Hae-in.
"Yeobina," she said warmly as she walked away. "How is my aegi? Jal jinae?"
Hae-in remained seated, unmoving.
"Your unni's marriage is fixed," her mother continued, excitement lacing her voice. "Next week. The boy is very handsome, you know." She laughed softly. "Appa wants you to come home early for the preparations. Come tomorrow."
The call went on, laughter spilling into the hallway, while Hae-in sat there, invisible.
Mr. Jeon finally looked at her. He smiled gently and walked closer. "Don't worry, Hae-ina," he said in a soft voice, patting her head. "Everything will be fine."
She lifted her eyes to him. They were glossy now, tears threatening to spill. Her lips trembled despite her effort to hold them still.
He chuckled lightly. "Why are you crying like a child?" he teased gently. "You're my strong daughter. My pride." His voice softened further. "I know you can do this. Don't worry. Appa and Omma will always be there for you."
He paused, then added reassuringly, "Even after you're married."
Her heart clenched at his words. There was warmth in them, familiar and sincere, but it didn't heal her. Instead, it hurt more. Because that warmth came wrapped in blindness. They couldn't see the depth of her pain, the weight of her fears, the quiet dreams she was being asked to bury without a word.
He leaned in and kissed the top of her head, gentle and reassuring. "Don't stress yourself," he said softly. "Take leave. Relax." A small smile curved his lips. "This is your marriage. And my daughter has to be a beautiful bride."
Then, as if everything had been settled perfectly, he added, "Go. Get some rest."
He stood up, already reaching for his phone, dialing numbers, his voice turning cheerful as he began informing relatives and friends.
Hae-in stayed where she was.
She watched her parents move around the room, busy and animated, their faces glowing with happiness as the news spread from one call to another. Laughter, congratulations, and excitement filled the air.
And in the middle of it all, she sat silently, hurting. Ignored. Lost once again.
The world moved forward without her, while her heart remained stuck, aching in a place no one seemed willing to look at.
******************************
The next day, the house woke up to noise. Conversations. Lists. Phone calls. Preparations began as if a switch had been flipped overnight.
Hae-in used the chaos as her escape.
She stepped out without saying much and walked straight to Ji-hoon's restaurant, her pace determined, her mind racing with thoughts. Her face was cold, drained of color. Her eyes were swollen, red around the edges, telling a story of a night spent crying into silence.
The door chimed as she entered.
"Yes, ma'am?" one of the staff members approached politely.
"Where is Ji-hoon?" she asked. Her voice was flat, sharp enough to cut.
The staff hesitated, momentarily thrown off by her expression. "Why, ma'am?" he asked carefully.
"I need to talk to him. Where is he?" she repeated, patience already thinning.
"Umm… he went to Seoul, ma'am," the staff replied slowly.
Her jaw tightened. "When? And when will he be back?"
He shifted uncomfortably under her stare. "Today… he left this morning. And I… I don't know when he'll be back."
Hae-in closed her eyes, frustration crashing over her. She inhaled, then asked, "Can I get his number?"
The staff stiffened, suspicion flickering across his face. "But why?"
That was it.
Her eyes snapped open. "I need to talk to him. It's important," she said, her voice rising. "Can I get his number?"
Her words echoed louder than she intended. Heads turned. A few customers glanced over. The air grew tense.
The staff visibly flinched, fear creeping into his expression.
From the kitchen, Ji-seok stepped out, drawn by the raised voice, his eyes landing on Hae-in and instantly sensing that something was very, very wrong.
She took a slow breath, forcing the tremor in her chest to settle. When she spoke again, her voice was controlled, clipped, holding itself together by a thin thread.
"Look… I'm his fiancée," she said. "And I need to talk to him immediately. Can I get his contact?"
Ji-seok, who had just stepped out, looked at her carefully. "What happened, ma'am?" he asked, his tone cautious.
The staff turned to him quickly. "Hyung, she's asking for Ji-hoon hyung's contact," he explained. "She says she's his fiancée."
Ji-seok's gaze lingered on Hae-in. He took in her pale face, the puffiness around her eyes, the stiffness in her posture. Whatever was happening, it wasn't ordinary. Slowly, he smiled.
"Oh," he said gently. "Annyeong. I'm Ji-seok. I work here as the chef." Then, almost apologetically, "I'm sorry. Ji-hoon went to Seoul with his family… for his wedding shopping."
Her expression didn't change. "Can I get his contact?" she asked again, this time quieter, but firm.
Ji-seok nodded. "Of course. Just a second."
He walked to the counter, pulled out a card, and returned. "Here," he said, handing it to her.
She took it without a word and turned to leave.
"Ah… jeogiyo."
Ji-seok's voice stopped her mid-step. She paused and turned back.
He smiled kindly. "You're our Ji-hoon's fiancée, right? Sit. Let me serve you something. It's lunchtime, and you look drained."
"No, thank you," she replied immediately. "I have other work."
Ji-seok's smile faltered for just a moment. Not offended, just sad.
Hae-in noticed. She sighed softly, exhaustion seeping through her resistance. She didn't want to be rude to his staff. "Alright," she said at last.
Ji-seok's face brightened. "Please have a seat," he said warmly. "Your food will be ready in ten minutes."
She nodded and walked to a nearby chair, sitting down slowly, the card clenched in her hand.
Ji-seok rushed back into the kitchen, but instead of reaching for ingredients first, he pulled out his phone. His fingers moved quickly as he dialed.
"Ye, hyung?" Ji-hoon answered.
"Ji-hoona," Ji-seok said in a low, hurried voice, "your girl is here at the restaurant."
"What?" Ji-hoon stiffened instantly.
"Yes. She doesn't look good," Ji-seok continued. "She looks upset. Angry too. She asked to meet you. I told her you went to Seoul, and then she asked for your contact." He paused. "I couldn't refuse, so I gave it to her. Handle her patiently… or better, avoid her calls."
Ji-hoon inhaled sharply. "Hyung… how can I handle this?"
"You have to," Ji-seok said firmly. "Just one week. Once the marriage is done, everything will settle."
Ji-hoon went quiet for a moment. Then his voice softened. "Is she… hurt a lot?"
Ji-seok glanced toward the dining area. "Seems like it," he admitted. "But her anger is dangerous, man. Even our Eunwoo got scared of her." He chuckled lightly. "Are you sure you want to bear this volcano for a lifetime?"
Ji-hoon laughed softly on the other end. "She's lovely too," he said without hesitation. "You should see her when she smiles. She becomes a completely different person. Like cutie." His voice turned gentle. "Right now, she's just frustrated. That's why she reacted like that."
"Alright, alright," Ji-seok said, amused. "Now deal with your cutie's anger." He sighed dramatically. "I need to prepare her food immediately, or else she'll kill me with that sharp stare."
Ji-hoon let out a soft chuckle. "Hyung," he said fondly, "feed my girl something really delicious. She turns soft the moment she sees food… especially when she's hungry or off."
Ji-seok laughed under his breath. "Alright, Romeo," he replied, already reaching for the pan. "Now let me cook."
Ji-hoon chuckled again. "Saranghae, hyungnim," he teased.
Ji-seok shook his head with an amused smile as he ended the call, turning back to the stove, the corners of his lips still curved upward while the kitchen filled with the comforting rhythm of cooking.